


Humanitas

by Idicted



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Action/Adventure, Emotionally Hurt Leonard "Bones" McCoy, Gen, Hurt Spock (Star Trek), Hurt!Spock, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Xenophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-21 15:20:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 17,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15560664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idicted/pseuds/Idicted
Summary: Spock is viciously attacked while the Enterprise is docked at Starbase 14 and awakes bloody, bruised and naked. Soon it turns out that this attack was not an isolated incident but one of many xenophobic attacks perpetrated by the Humanitas movement, an underground organization that wants Earth to cut ties with other planets and to bring Starfleet under solely human rule. McCoy infiltrates the movement and soon he and Spock find themselves in the midst of a mission that threatens both their lives and the Federation as they know it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I usually like to post complete works, but I'm trying to go with the flow and will update this as I write it, probably every (other) day or so. Stay tuned and let me know if you like it so far!

_Medical emergency, Doctor McCoy, Starship Enterprise, to Gallery 9 B, Level 12. I repeat medical emergency…_

 

But McCoy was already on his way, wondering what on Earth could be wrong that they were calling him specifically over the base’s speaker system normally used to announce ships’ departure, rather than the Starbase’s own medics over internal channels.

 

The Enterprise was docked at Starbase 14 for a two-day stopover while new cargo was being loaded and most of the crew had taken the opportunity to beam down to the base to do some shopping or enjoy the base’s recreational facilities. McCoy has just settled down for a drink in a bar when the announcement had come through. _Good thing I didn’t touch that bourbon yet or I’d be unfit to practice medicine_ , he thought as he hurried to the lifts leading to Gallery 9 B.

 

When the lift doors opened on level 12, McCoy almost collided with a man identifiable by the insignia on his uniform as a Starbase law enforcement officer.

 

“Doctor McCoy?” he asked, “I am Lieutenant Carlier. This way, please.”

 

“What is going on?” McCoy asked. Law enforcement, this had to be serious. He was starting to feel anxious.

 

But Carlier only gestured towards the door of a private cubicle, not far from which two Starbase medics and a civilian were lingering indecisively. McCoy gave them a confused look and entered the room.

 

At first he thought the room was empty but when he turned his head to the right, he spotted Spock sitting in the far corner, back straight but knees drawn to his chest, his body bloody, bruised and _naked_ , McCoy realized.

 

“Spock, _what happened_?” he asked, dropping to his knees beside the Vulcan, medical scanner already whirring. Spock was shaking but McCoy could not be sure if it was due to an effort to keep control or an effect of the injuries and two stun beams registering on his scanner. The injuries were not serious but if he ever saw a traumatized Vulcan, this was one.

 

“I apologise for interrupting your free time, doctor,” Spock began, his eyes firmly trained on a spot on the ground before him, voice unsteady. “I came to this area to meditate at 1800 hours. My next memory is of waking up to being held down and being beaten. Then my memory fails me up to the time when two Starbase medics awoke me with a hypo spray. Once I realized the… state I was in” – Spock’s cheeks flushed green – “and that both my uniform and my communicator were gone, I requested they withdraw and call you instead.”

 

McCoy gasped, trying to make sense of his feelings. He was angry at whoever had done this to Spock, concerned for his wellbeing, and moved that the Vulcan had trusted him in a situation that was clearly difficult for the Enterprise’s First Officer. Instinctively, he put a comforting hand on Spock’s arm but Spock flinched away, and when his head snapped up to meet McCoy’s eyes, the doctor saw his own emotions mirrored there, plus pain, fear and shame. _Touch telepath_ , he berated himself.

 

“Sorry, Spock, sorry. Let’s get you back to the ship, huh. I’ll ask Scotty for a direct transport to sickbay.”

 

“Thank you, doctor,” Spock managed.

 

McCoy tried calling the Enterprise but to no avail.

 

“There’s no reception in here,” he mumbled. “I’m gonna have to step outside for a minute, ok, Spock? I’ll be right back, I promise.”

 

Spock only nodded, his eyes once again fixed on the floor.

 

Outside, Carlier, the medics and the civilian still waited. “We’re beaming back to the Enterprise,” McCoy informed the Lieutenant, opening his communicator.

 

“But I need a statement from the victim,” Carlier protested. “We must investigate this.”

 

“You can have your statement later,” McCoy barked. “My first duty is to my patient.”

 

At that moment, Scott’s voice came over the communicator. “Doctor, we can hardly read you. Are you in or near a shielded area?” McCoy glanced at Carlier who nodded.

 

“Yes, Scotty. Listen, I need a transport directly to sickbay.”

 

“Not possible from where you are now doctor. You need to move at least 10 metres further towards the main hall of the base.”

 

McCoy briefly closed his eyes. “Understood Scotty, I’ll call you back.”

 

To Carlier he said: “Get me a blanket and then clear this hallway. I don’t want to see a single person when we come out of that room, is that clear?”

 

Carlier nodded and disappeared only to re-emerge minutes later carrying a large blanket.

 

McCoy went back to the cubicle where Spock was by now slumped against the wall, still shaking. The doctor carefully wrapped the blanket around the Vulcan.

 

“Spock,” he said softly. “Scotty can’t get a fix on our signal in here. We have to move towards the main hall. But don’t worry, the corridor is clear. Can you stand?”

 

Spock nodded and shakily got to his feet. McCoy readjusted the blanket now covering the Vulcan’s bruised body, then wrapped an arm around his waist.

 

“Two to beam directly to sickbay,” McCoy instructed Scotty once they had cleared the shielded area.

 

McCoy glanced sideways at his friend and patient. _Who would do this to you, Spock_ , he thought as they dematerialized in the empty Starbase corridor.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Spock sat on the bio bed, hands clutching the Starbase blanket while McCoy was running more detailed scans. Angry yellow-green bruises had begun to appear all over the Vulcan’s body, but as he had determined earlier, the injuries were not serious. Two cracked ribs and some deeper cuts on his back were the worst of it, nothing a dermal regenerator couldn’t fix. And Spock had finally stopped shaking.

 

“Spock,” McCoy said gently, I need to move the blanket so that I can start treating you.”

 

Spock drew in a sharp breath. He looked up from the blanket and met McCoy’s eyes.

 

“Public nudity is considered extremely distasteful in Vulcan culture, doctor,” he explained mechanically. I apologise for my demeanour. I will have to meditate to come to terms with what has happened.”

 

“Don’t apologise, Spock!” McCoy said as he ran the dermal regenerator over his patient’s arms. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

 

“Yet, I feel ashamed,” the Vulcan confessed. “Of having been exposed like this… and of my inability to control the resulting feeling of shame. It is…not logical.”

 

“Well, what happened to you certainly isn’t logical either,” McCoy ranted. “Who the hell would do something like this. And why? To steal a communicator?” He moved on to Spock’s back and froze. The lines left by the deep cuts there converged to form two words. _Alien scum_. And below, there was the letter H in a circle, curved elaborately.

 

“Spock,” McCoy whispered, your back…”

 

“I know, doctor,” Spock said solemnly. “I can feel the cuts and I know the what he…wrote. While I was briefly conscious he uttered similar sentiments.”

 

“So this was a xenophobic attack!” McCoy spat out. “This is terrible, Spock. How can you be so calm?”

 

“It is not my first experience of the kind,” the Vulcan said softly. “In fact, the last time I was here in sickbay, this was due to a similar incident.”

 

McCoy cast his mind back. The last time he had treated Spock had been for a stab wound sustained in a bar on a Zesta III, a notorious trading spot for illicit goods that they had investigated for stolen dilithium crystals. When Spock had materialized in the transporter room, he had immediately collapsed and McCoy had spent three hours in the OR repairing the First Officer’s heart valve. The doctor swallowed hard.

 

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

 

“Since we were not able to take my attacker into custody, I did not think the fact that he called me ‘non-human filth’ before striking would serve any purpose other than to further upset you and the captain.”

 

“Anything else you haven’t told us about, Spock?” McCoy asked, half exasperated, half dismayed.

 

Spock was silent for a moment, then said: “In my lifetime, I have experienced 192 serious attacks on my person motivated by xenophobia. These include both verbal and physical attacks. Interestingly,” Spock continued, “the frequency of such attacks has risen by 229.4 percent in the last six months.”

 

McCoy was stunned.

 

“Interesting? You find this interesting? Spock, I had no idea. I don’t understand why you wouldn’t tell Jim and me.”

 

As if on cue, Kirk burst into through the sickbay doors. McCoy frowned.

 

“Private treatment, _captain_ ,” he said, eyes narrowing. Kirk ignored him.

 

“Spock, are you alright? I heard you were transported directly to sickbay, I thought… I thought” – Kirk scrutinized his First Officer – “I was afraid something terrible had happened.”

 

“Something terrible _did_ happen, Jim,” McCoy sighed. “Look, Spock, apparently you don’t like talking about this, but I think Jim should know.”

 

Spock sighed and inclined his head. “Look at his back, Jim.”

 

Kirk looked and his stomach turned. His head reeled as McCoy filled him in on what had happened on the base and as he repeated his conversation with Spock back to Kirk.

 

“Why didn’t you report this, Spock?” Kirk’s face held the same incredulous expression McCoy’s had shown minutes earlier.

 

“Humans…” Spock began by way of explanation, “are easily upset. I wished to…spare your feelings.”

 

“Damn right, we’re upset, Spock,” McCoy shouted. “And don’t even begin to tell me you’re not.”

 

“As a Vulcan, I can use meditation…”

 

“Bullshit. Meditation doesn’t make this go away, and you know it,” McCoy huffed.

 

Spock didn’t say anything.

 

“That letter on your back,” Kirk said pensively into the silence. “There are rumours going around… rumours of an underground organization that wants Earth to cut ties with other planets and to bring Starfleet under solely human rule. Supposedly, they are called “Humanitas”. You don’t think this could be anything to do with that? They are not supposed to be very well organized. I get the Starfleet Intelligence reports from time to time and they don’t seems to be perceived as a real threat.”

 

“Interesting,” Spock remarked. “It would be worthwhile to research this. We could start by…”

 

“One thing after the other,” McCoy interrupted him. “First, I’m going to finish treating you, and then we will all meet for dinner and talk about something _pleasant_. My quarters in one hour. I’m making Plomeek soup.”

 

Both Kirk and Spock looked at him in surprise.

 

“So that you know humans are not all alike and there are still many that love you,” McCoy said gruffly.

 

Spock half smiled. “I already know that, doctor.”


	3. Chapter 3

Three months later, the incident at the Starbase already seemed like ancient history, Kirk thought. The investigation had yielded no suspects and seemed to have been all but forgotten by the authorities and Spock himself; in any case, the Vulcan never spoke of it. They had been in deep space ever since, limiting Spock’s contact to humans to the crew of the Enterprise and Kirk was relieved that there had been no xenophobic incidents involving members of his crew. _Of course not_ , he thought. _They adore Spock_.

 

Nevertheless, he felt a bit anxious when they were ordered to attend the 100th anniversary celebrations on Earth colony Libra II. It was going to be a long evening, a reception with  mostly humans in attendance. Kirk and McCoy stuck close to Spock, _just in case_ , as the doctor had said, but as the evening progressed and nothing out of the ordinary happened, they all became more relaxed.

 

Kirk even allowed himself to be distracted by the beautiful First Minister of the colony for half an hour and when he re-joined his friends, he smiled at finding them bickering over human and Vulcan education systems.

 

“…and that’s why you all turn into goddam heartless computers,” McCoy was saying as Kirk approached. “Jim, the green-blooded hobgoblin is trying to tell me Vulcan children are better adjusted than human children, but when I look at your emotional capacity, Spock, I’m not buying it…”

 

“Alright, alright,” Kirk laughed. “Let’s continue this argument over a cup of coffee tomorrow morning. I think it’s high time we went to bed.”

 

***

 

The next morning, Spock and Kirk were already at their usual table in the rec room, when McCoy hurried in, clearly agitated. He sat down opposite them, slamming down a piece of paper on the table.  

 

“What is it, Bones?” Kirk asked, concern mingling with curiosity.

 

“Look at this.” McCoy was white as a sheet. I found it in the pocket of my dress uniform when I picked it up to throw it into the laundry this morning. Someone must have slipped it in there last night.

 

Kirk and Spock bent over the small rectangular piece of thick paper, folded over to make a perfect square. The cover flaunted an elaborately drawn dark red “H” inside a circle. Inside, there was a pre-printed gap text, the gaps filled in in red ink.

 

_Dear Leonard McCoy,_

_We have observed your interactions with a Vulcanand have reason to believe you are one of us. _

_To find out more, call us on subspace channel 906-D on Stardate_ _ 4966.9 _ _at 0400hours. Your personal identification code is Pj0G76HXX9Li3._

                           

_H._

 

 “H,” Kirk said, pensively. “You think…?” It looked like the same sign he had seen etched into Spock’s skin.

 

“Humanitas. Vey likely, captain,” Spock said dispassionately.

 

“Why would they think _I_ am one of them?” McCoy asked, angrily. “I’m a doctor, for god’s sake. I value life in all its forms.”

 

“Well, Bones, to be honest…” Kirk scratched his head. “Spock and I know your jibes and the name-calling are all in good fun, but I guess to an outsider it might seem like you’re serious.”

 

McCoy felt sick. For the first time, he wondered if any of his jibes against Spock, especially from the early days of their acquaintance, counted towards the 192 attacks the Vulcan had experienced.

 

“Spock, I…” he was struggling for words. “You know I don’t think… I would never…”

 

“I know, doctor,” Spock said gently. “Nevertheless, I believe this to be a fortunate misunderstanding.”

 

“How so?” Kirk asked.

 

“This is an opportunity to learn more about the inner workings of Humanitas. I would suggest, doctor, you accept the invitation and go under cover.”

 

“Are you mad?” McCoy glared across the table. “I want nothing to do with these people! Did you see what they write there?” He jabbed his finger at the card. “Your interactions with _a Vulcan_. They mean you, Spock! They reduce you to your species and you want me to associate with them?”

 

“ _Pretend_ to associate, doctor,” Spock corrected. “This may be a unique opportunity to gain insights that are inaccessible to most.”

 

McCoy crossed his arms in defiance.

 

“Spock’s right, Bones,” Kirk said. “The more we know about them, the less we have to fear them. I guess you’re gonna make that call.”


	4. Chapter 4

McCoy was nervous. _Stage fright_ , he thought as he sat down in front of his view screen. A week had passed since he had received the invitation for this call and he had sat down with Kirk and Spock every night since to practice what to say. But Leonard McCoy was not a good liar. In fact, he was honest to a fault. He was also wondering why they wanted to do this at this ungodly hour – the fact that it was 3:55 in the morning and he hadn’t slept at all didn’t help any with the anxiety he was feeling. And what nagged him most of all was that these people actually thought he was a xenophobe.

 

As the chronometer slid to 0400, McCoy dialled the indicated frequency, typed in his code and waited. A hooded figure appeared on the screen.

 

“McCoy,” the figure began, voice distorted. “Let me tell you about our movement.”

 

To McCoy’s surprise, a lengthy monologue followed. His interlocutor was clearly an accomplished speaker, for after half an hour McCoy almost believed that Earth, its culture and the very existence of the human race were threatened by the presence of and association with aliens. Yet, the man (McCoy assumed it was a man but he could not be sure) never used any overtly xenophobic language, never once was explicit enough for any law enforcement official to be able to accuse him of hate-speech.

 

The message was to put humanity first and to make Earth independent of other species. When it finally was McCoy’s turn to speak, his rehearsed tirades against aliens felt crude in comparison. Nevertheless, he delivered his performance, conscious of the need to gain the movement’s trust.

 

The person at the other end of the line listened for a while, but at some point abruptly cut him off.

 

“We will speak again in one week, same time, same frequency,” he said brusquely before signing off, leaving McCoy wondering whether this undercover assignment had just been terminated or whether it was only just beginning. 

 

***

 

As it turned out, it was only just beginning. McCoy now had weekly sessions with the mysterious hooded figure, and had progressed to being quizzed about his views on how a future purely human society might be achieved, including possible uses of medical research as “alien-repellents.”

 

These discussions left McCoy sick to his stomach but with no greater knowledge of Humanitas (the name, so far, had not been mentioned), its composition or organizational structure. Six weeks in, he was about to suggest to Jim and Spock to quit talking to this madman, who, for all he knew, was sitting by himself on a run-down outpost in the middle of nowhere, when something changed.

 

“You have consistently proven that your views are in line with our own,” the distorted voice boomed towards the end of their session. “We would like to welcome you as a member of Humanitas,” McCoy tried his best to hide his surprise at the mention of the organization’s name, “but I’m sure you understand we need to be careful.”

 

McCoy only nodded.

 

“As a test of new members’ conviction we demand from each one that they leave our symbol as a permanent mark on the body of an alien.”

 

McCoy paled and hoped his agitation was not visible over the view screen.

 

“You have one week to fulfil your assignment. We want proof of your actions.”

 

“I… we are in deep space,” McCoy stuttered. “I don’t know when I will have the opportunity to… to accomplish this task.”

 

“There is at least one alien aboard your ship, is there not?” the figure taunted. “We already know him from another member’s footage of his successful application for membership. I suppose you saw his handy work? Of course we understand you cannot deliver quite the same results. Instilling humiliation and fear in the victim is always a plus, but by no means necessary. All we ask is you leave the sign, even if you have to remove it again to protect your identity. You will find a way, McCoy.” And with that the connection was cut.

 

McCoy got up from his desk, stumbled to the bathroom and emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet. _So that’s why Spock was attacked on Starbase 14. As an initiation ritual for this insane organization. And they want me to do the same thing to him again_.

 

“No,” McCoy said out loud. It was time to stop playing private investigator and to hand this over to the authorities.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've decided to add Archive Warning because while this chapter is not too bad... I have a feeling this fic is going to get a lot darker later on...

The authorities, more precisely Commodore Singh from Starfleet Intelligence who was in charge of the Humanitas investigation, were not helpful. Singh had been dismayed to learn of the undercover investigation begun by the Enterprise officers, yet had quickly decided that since they had begun it, they might as well carry on. _Never mind none of us has any training in this area_ , McCoy thought angrily as Singh disappeared off the view screen after asking Spock to “take one for the team.” What he meant was, he could not order McCoy to do what Humanitas asked of him, nor Spock to allow it, but he made it vey clear that Intelligence would not intervene at this time.

 

“Did you hear what he said?” Kirk asked incredulously. “39 reported attacks in which the mark was left on the victim’s body and they’re not doing anything. They’re not really taking this seriously.”

 

“Then it is all the more imperative that we do,” Spock remarked.

 

“What are you saying, Spock?” McCoy asked angrily. “You want me to do to you what that bastard did on the base? You know what the guy said during our last conversation? ‘Instilling humiliation and fear in the victim is always a plus’! It’s disgusting!”

 

Spock steepled his fingers. “True, doctor. It is also true, however, that they must be stopped. We can only achieve this with more information.”

 

McCoy threw his hands up in exasperation.

 

“What else did he say about the actual process on leaving the mark on somebody’s body? Kirk asked pensively.

 

McCoy shrugged. “Said it needs to be a permanent mark – guess that means they want it inflicted by violence, not painted on or something. And I can also remove it again if necessary, but I have to give them proof I’ve done it. The guy on the base apparently made a video recording.”

 

Kirk shuddered.

 

“Doctor, I believe I am scheduled for a standard physical this week,” Spock said calmly. “If you were to  _accidentally_ give me a sedative while examining me, I would not know what had transpired during the time I was unconscious.”

 

“Good idea, Spock,” Kirk agreed. “Bones, you would be alone with him in the exam room and you could easily video-record what you’re doing.”

 

McCoy’s jaw dropped. “You’re suggesting we actually do this? That’s crazy, Jim! There’s no way I’m mutilating you, Spock! There has to be another way, fake it or something!”

 

“Doctor, I assure you, it will not… _feel_ the same way to me it did on Starbase 14. I will be unconscious and you will be able to remove the mark again before I wake up.”

 

“Yeah, but I won’t be unconscious,” McCoy mumbled under his breath.

 

“Bones, Spock is right when he says we need more information and we can’t risk losing their trust by sending them a fake. I’m sorry, for both of you.” Kirk looked pained.

 

“You’re mad,” McCoy stammered. “Both of you. _Mad_!”

 

***

 

Two days later, McCoy found himself staring down at Spock’s unconscious face, a scalpel from his collection of antique medical instruments in hand. _How did I lose this argument_? he asked himself as he prepared to switch on the video recording equipment.

 

“Remember, it needs to look like you’re relishing this,” Kirk had instructed him earlier. “It needs to look _cruel_ , Bones.”

 

McCoy’s usually steady surgeon’s hand was shaking as he looked at Spock’s bare back. _Do no harm_.

 

As he thought of the people who did this sort of thing out of true conviction, a look of disgust and hatred crept onto his face and he seized the moment of anger to quickly slash the intricate H into Spock’s back. He even managed a grin into the camera before switching it off and dropping the scalpel to the floor.

 

He let himself fall into the chair beside the bio bed and began to weep uncontrollably, unable to look away from the cuts on his friend’s back, oozing green blood.

 

“Forgive me, Spock,” he spluttered, “please, forgive me,” beginning to wipe away the blood with shaking hands. When he felt a little steadier again, McCoy grabbed a dermal regenerator to undo the damage he had caused. He really hoped there was a point to all of this. He really hoped these bastards would have to pay one day.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Humanitas’ response to the video McCoy had sent over the usual channel was enthusiastic. They called _him_ – a first so far, two days before the appointed time. He was greeted by a young man with a plump face and rosy cheeks – no hood, no voice distortion.

 

“McCoy,” the boy – for McCoy was sure he was no more than 20 years old – greeted him with a broad grin, “you did well. You earned our trust and we want you to be involved with our next big operation. It is time we meet properly. I am Major General Eric Boon, I’m responsible for recruitment.”

 

 _Major General?_ McCoy thought, trying hard to keep his face neutral.

 

“Humanitas already has 247 active members,” Boon boasted. “Your service number will be H-MC-000-X-248. You are now a Private First Class, but don’t worry. Rising through the ranks is easy in Humanitas. We will reward your actions. See, normally you would start out as a Private, but you already gained two ranks. One when we saw you insult that green-blooded freak on Libra II and another when you slashed his back open.”

 

McCoy was shocked at the hatred and malice in the kid’s voice but did his best to grin in agreement. Boon looked to the left of the screen and seemed to listen to someone standing there before addressing McCoy again.

 

“General Carter, our Head of Operations suggests we give you an additional rank because you have to work with that disgusting Vulcan every day and because you took a great risk fulfilling your initiation. How does _Specialist_ McCoy sound to you?” he asked proudly, beaming at McCoy expectantly.

 

McCoy managed a smile. “Sounds fantastic, _Major General_ ,” he said, feeling like an idiot for addressing that kid with his fake rank. But Boon seemed elated.

 

“Wonderful, Specialist. You’ll fit right in with us. The General will give you some instructions for the next operation now.”

 

Boon got up and in his place appeared a man about McCoy’s age, with a muscular neck and small grey eyes.

 

“Listen up, Specialist,” he said without greeting. “We need you to come to Lyko IX on Stardate 5016.4. And you need to bring an alien. That Vulcan of yours will do. Can we count on you?”

 

McCoy’s head reeled. Carefully, he began to probe for more information.

 

“Well, as you may know, _General_ , I’m on assignment on a Starship. Might not be easy to get there in… a week. Can you give me some more info about the plan?”

 

Carter shook his head. “No can do, Specialist. You need to rise to Colonel before we can reveal any classified information. But I promise you, it will be grand. It will change the course of history, the make-up of Starfleet and the destiny of Earth. So I ask again, can we count on you, McCoy?”

 

“Of course, General, I’ll be there. See you in a week.”

 

Once he had signed off, McCoy swallowed hard. _Surely, they wouldn’t really have to go to Lyko IX. Surely, Commodore Singh would intervene now that he had the names of two Humanitas members?_

 

***

 

The answer was “no.” Singh had done a background check on Boon and Carter but had found nothing. “They’re not their real names,” he remarked arrogantly over the subspace channel the day after McCoy's conversation with the two Humanitas members. “Playing around with fake military ranks is not a crime,” Singh added impatiently.

 

“What about incitement to grievous bodily harm?” McCoy barked angrily.

 

Singh only raised an eyebrow. “As far as I know, Commander Spock consented to your actions, doctor.”

 

“Because you told us we should go ahead and get some proof!” McCoy exploded.

 

Singh shrugged. “Either you give me some real proof that something irregular is going on, or you stop bothering me. I’m a busy man.”

 

And with that, Singh had ended the subspace communication, leaving Kirk, McCoy and Spock sitting in Spock’s quarters in silence.

 

Eventually, Spock reached for a drawer in his desk and took out a small silver badge in the form of a circle pierced by a triangle, staring at it almost absentmindedly.

 

“The IDIC,” Kirk commented softly.

 

“Yes,” Spock closed his hand around the badge. “It forms the basis of Vulcan philosophy, celebrating the vast array of variables in the universe. But to me personally, it has always held a deeper meaning. Infinite diversity of life forms, created by infinite combinations of their DNA, within and across different species.”

 

Kirk and McCoy nodded. They could see why this would be important to Spock, the first Vulcan-human hybrid.

 

“In spite of Vulcans’ adherence to logic and their appreciation of the IDIC philosophy, I have had to fight for their recognition and approval all my life. One of the reasons I joined Starfleet was that I hoped to find acceptance in an environment so diverse as to amount to a lived experience of IDIC. And, for the most part, I did.”  

 

McCoy swallowed hard. He had never truly thought about how difficult it had to be for Spock, being neither human nor Vulcan. _No_ , he thought, _not neither. Both_.

 

“Doctor, you said Carter told you their plan would change the make-up of Starfleet and the destiny of Earth,” Spock continued. “We must find out what Humanitas are planning, for if there is any chance that they might succeed in destroying what Starfleet and the Federation have achieved in inter-species dialogue and cooperation, they must be stopped.”

 

McCoy nodded. “You’re right, Spock. I certainly don’t want to return to an age of Earth isolationism.”

 

“It might be dangerous for you, Spock,” Kirk remarked worriedly.

 

Spock nodded. “And for the doctor also. Nevertheless, I believe we have no choice.”

 

McCoy put a hand on Spock’s arm. “I guess we’re going to Lyko IX.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a transition chapter. Kept it short so that we can get to the action sooner;)

_McCoy had forced Spock at phaser point to abduct a shuttle during the night shift and to fly it to Lyko IX. The Enterprise had not noticed their departure before they went out of sensor reach. They had not taken any communicators and had maintained radio silence._

 

That was the story McCoy planned to tell once they reached Lyko IX, _in only 10 minutes_ , he thought, his stomach constricting painfully. The truth was somewhat different.

 

Kirk, Spock and McCoy had meticulously planned and prepared this mission, with Spock boosting the shuttle’s communications console for further reach and Kirk adjusting the Enterprise’s course so that she would remain just within communication distance to the shuttle once it landed on Lyko IX.

 

McCoy had hidden medical supplies in the rear of the shuttle, including blood bags with Vulcan T-negative, Andorian Y-Plasma, the two blood types of Tellarites, and just about any other non-human blood reserves the Enterprise had in stock.

 

Looking at the supplies, he had suddenly realized with a pang that all this might me a drop in the ocean, depending on what Humanitas were planning.

 

“If these were human lives at stake, the authorities would be all too ready to swoop in and save the day,” McCoy had ranted angrily. “No way they would leave this up to two officers in a shuttle without weapons. You sure Starfleet as it is now is worth saving, Spock?”

 

“Starfleet may need reforming but nevertheless it would be unfortunate if it changed for the worse,” Spock had said patiently. “You said no weapons, doctor. You do have you phaser?”

 

“Yes,” McCoy had barked, feeling more and more anxious, “I have the damn phaser.”

 

***

 

“ _The phaser_ , doctor.” McCoy was brought out of his reverie and back to the present by Spock’s voice. They had landed. “You need to point the phaser at me when we exit. And remember to set it to ‘kill’ in case they check.” Spock’s face was sombre. _Shit_ , McCoy thought,  _this could go wrong in so many ways_.

 

Taking a deep breath he trained the phaser at Spock’s back, who in turn raised his hands above his head. They looked deeply into each other’s eyes one last time and then exited the shuttle.

 


	8. Chapter 8

The phaser beam caught Spock squarely in the chest and he immediately collapsed in a heap. McCoy had to reassure himself that it had not been his own phaser that was fired and whirled around to find Carter (or whatever his real name was) grinning at him.

 

“Just a precaution,” Carter said jovially. “These aliens know all kinds of dirty tricks. Good job bringing him here though. Run into any trouble?”

 

“McCoy was staring at Spock’s still form and only managed to answer when he was sure he was still breathing.

 

“Er, no… uhm _General_. Kept my phaser pointed at him at all times, so no trouble.” McCoy was certain he was doing a terrible job acting but Carter didn’t seem to mind his stammering.

 

“Set to kill. Smart man,” Carter grinned, glancing at McCoy’s weapon. “Even a Vulcan would see the logic in obeying your commands,” he chuckled. “So _Corporal_. Yes, that’s right you just earned yourself a rise in rank. Abducting a Starfleet officer and a shuttle on top is no mean feat. Shall I show you around?”

 

At that moment, two more men appeared, briefly nodded to McCoy, grabbed Spock by the wrists and roughly began dragging him away.

 

“Halt!” Carter suddenly commanded and the two men dropped Spock, snapping to attention.

 

“Why not give you an opportunity to make Sergeant today,” he continued, licking his lips. “I’m afraid I don’t have any useful equipment handy but a few kicks with those boots should do the job.” He pointed at McCoy’s feet and nodded in encouragement.

 

“Go on! Now you can finally do all of the things you ever dreamed of doing to this disgusting half-blood. Well, almost all the things. I’m afraid we need him alive.”

 

McCoy suddenly felt lightheaded. They had discussed the possibility that he would be asked to harm Spock again, or possibly other non-humans, but he hadn’t thought that it would happen so soon, or that Spock would be unconscious and thus unable to defend himself. Desperate for a way out, he said the first thing that came into his head.

 

“Actually, General, I injured my leg on a mission last week and kinda wanna take it easy for a while if that’s ok. I’m sure I’ll have plenty of opportunities to see the Vulcan suffer.” McCoy managed a lopsided grin.

 

Carter gave him a searching look but soon the smile reappeared on his face. “I promise you, you won’t only have the opportunity to _watch_ him suffer, you will _make_ him suffer. But for now, let me give you the former opportunity.”

 

And with that he approached Spock, a look of disgust on his face. He carefully, almost gently pressed the tip of his boot into his side, as if testing the softness of the tissue there, then he raised his leg and delivered three vicious kicks just below the ribcage. McCoy closed his eyes, sickened by this display, yet grateful that Carter had no chosen the other side of Spock’s body, where his heart was located.

 

Spock’s body gave way under the force of the impact, causing him to bend inwards sideways, but the stun effect from the phaser blast was still strong enough to keep him unconscious. Panting, Carter stepped back to admire his work, then stepped close again, this time resting his boot just beside Spock’s head. With every fibre of his being, McCoy wanted to stop what was about to happen, but he remained glued to the spot watching in horror as the Colonel’s boot collided with Spock’s face just below the eye and a rivulet of green blood appeared, quietly dripping into the dust Carter actions had raised.

 

McCoy wanted to do nothing more than to rush to Spock’s side but knew that once Carter turned around to face him, he needed to have wiped the shock off his face and replaced it with a look of approval. While Spock was finally being dragged away, McCoy strode off in the opposite direction alongside Carter who was giving him a tour of the Humanitas headquarters. McCoy grabbed his own hands tightly behind his back to stop them from shaking. This was going to be the hardest mission he had ever had to undertake.


	9. Chapter 9

Spock awoke to a low hum of voices talking agitatedly. He opened his eyes and counted one Tellarite, two Andorians, and one Rigellian, huddled together as far away from him as the small, windowless room they seemed to be confined in allowed.

 

“I’m sure it’s him,” the female Andorian whispered. In spite of her low tone of voice Spock could hear her perfectly. “Look at his uniform.”

 

Spock was beginning to suspect they were talking about him and began to sit up. As he did so, a sharp pain flared up in his left side just below his ribs. His head also hurt. Groggily, he pulled himself up and addressed the group of people, who jumped at suddenly hearing his voice.

 

“Greetings, I am Spock.” He spread his fingers in the traditional Vulcan salute.

 

“You see!” The Andorian female looked at her companions excitedly. “I told you it’s him!”

 

Spock raised an eyebrow and the Tellarite stepped forward.

 

“You are Spock of the Enterprise?” he demanded aggressively.

 

Spock inclined his head. “I am.”

 

The Tellarite came closer, eyeing him suspiciously. “You are half human,” he said accusingly.

 

Spock regarded him evenly. “That, I believe, is common knowledge.”

 

“So what are you doing here?” the male Andorian demanded to know.

 

Spock briefly considered how much to tell his fellow captives. “I hope to contribute to preventing whatever Humanitas have planned,” he began carefully. “However, currently, I do not seem to be able to do much, as I find myself in the same predicament you are in.”

 

“I’m not buying it,” the Tellarite spat. “They would never do to a fellow human what they did to us. He’s here to spy on us.”

 

 _A fellow human?_ Spock had only ever been called ‘human’ on Vulcan before. _Fascinating_ , he thought.

 

“I assure you…” he began, but the Tellarite interrupted him.

 

“I say we make sure he doesn’t get an opportunity to report back to the other humans.”

 

And with that the Tellarite threw himself at Spock, who was still sitting on the ground. Normally, Spock would have been easily able to defeat a Tellarite in a fight but in his weakened state, he did not react quickly enough, so that his opponent delivered several surprisingly strong punches to Spock’s face before being pulled back by the Rigellian.

 

“Stop!” the Rigellian screamed at the Tellarite, holding him down with apparent ease. “We have to work together, not against each other if we want to get out of here.”

 

The Tellarite grunted angrily but eventually calmed down, still staring at Spock suspiciously.

 

Spock ineffectually dabbed his uniform sleeve at the fresh blood flowing from the wound below his eye and now also from his nose. Mustering as much calm and dignity as possible, he painfully rose to his feet.

 

“I concur,” he said evenly. “We must work together and I would appreciate any information on our captors that you have become aware of in the time you have been here.”

 

“Spoken like a spy…” the male Andorian mumbled, but the Rigellian threw him an angry look.

 

“My name is Laabi,” the Rigellian continued, turning to Spock, “this is Meenour,” Laabi pointed to the male Androrian, “Lorna,” – the female Andorian, “and Gan,” indicating the Tellatire. “Lorna and Meenour have been here the longest, they work here…or _used to_ work here, I guess. Gan and I only arrived yesterday.”

 

Spock nodded. “I know that Humanitas called on their members to bring non-humans to Lyko IX, though for what purpose, I do not know. Do you have any more information?”

 

There was a brief moment of silence, then Lorna spoke up. “I think they just like to torture us. They take us one at a time and hurt us. With some of us they stop pretty quickly, with others it takes ages. They make visual recording of what they do, but otherwise, they don’t do anything.”

 

The others nodded in agreement.

 

“They will come for you, too,” Lorna added, looking at Spock pityingly.

 

***

 

Leonard McCoy sat on the cot in his assigned quarters, rubbing his face with his hands. He was exhausted from keeping up the pretence all day. Carter had shown him around the upper levels of the Humanitas headquarters, where meeting rooms, quarters, a cafeteria and research labs were located.

 

What was now the headquarters was actually a Federation research station that had been manned by three Andorians and one human, a woman called _Major_ Cecilia Lonners, who was a member of Humanitas. She had “invited” the other members to the station, as Carter had put it, and they had taken the three Andorians into an underground room that was normally used for storing chemicals. When one of the Andorians had resisted they had “made an example of him,” Carter had said. _They killed him in cold blood_ , McCoy translated desperately, realising that this mission was far more dangerous than any of them had thought possible. _Especially for Spock_.

 

Carter had expressed disappointment at the fact that not all Humanitas members had followed his call to Lyko IX – only 15 had come, which counting Boon, Lonners, Carter and two Generals McCoy had not met yet, who had already been there, brought the total up to 20. _So much for the 247 active members_ , McCoy had thought mockingly. He was relieved the total number was relatively low, but they were still hopelessly outnumbered, considering that there were currently only 5 non-humans and McCoy himself on the other side.

 

The fact that not all members who had come had managed to bring non-humans with them had been a great source of anger for Carter who had told McCoy that everyone who had failed to do so had been demoted five steps in rank. Besides McCoy, only two other members had brought aliens with them. One Tellarite, who had apparently been slipped a sedative in a bar and dragged into a freighter, and one Rigellian, who had been lured to Lyko IX under the pretence of a research trip by her superior officer.

 

McCoy shuddered. He still didn’t know what Humanitas wanted with the non-humans, but he clung to one thought: Carter had said they needed Spock alive. _Alive for what?_ he immediately wondered glumly. Carter had promised him that tomorrow he would get to see “some fun.” McCoy was not at all sure that he wanted to.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, this is a long chapter. Expect whump!

Spock had spent the night attempting to meditate. Their prison offered nothing in terms of cots or even blankets, it was cold and the light was constantly left on. Nevertheless, the other prisoners had managed to fall asleep on the hard stone floor. Spock suspected that it had something to do with the torture sessions they had had to endure. They were all weakened and exhausted from what Laabi had described as “the bloodletting,” extending an arm to show Spock a large number of cuts.

 

“Looks harmless enough but they poured some stuff over them that made them hurt hellishly and bleed like crazy. They give you the antidote in the end but before they do, you think you’ll die.” Laabi’s eyes had been dark and sad.

 

***

 

“I never thought Ruby hated me…” Laabi addressed Spock now. “But it was her who did this to me, _cut_ me I mean…and who brought me here. I mean, we were never friends exactly. We were co-workers, she was my superior officer… so anyway, I think they will let your human do this to you. You know, the one who brought you here. By the way, how did he manage to convince you to come? Who was he to you?”

 

Spock hesitated, then decided his fellow-captives deserved the truth and perhaps a bit of hope.

 

“Dr Leonard McCoy is my friend,” he said earnestly. “We came here together to collect evidence of Humanitas’ crimes and to put an end to their activities.”

 

Meenour snorted derisively. “Your _friend_? Sure. He obviously tricked you pretty well for you to still believe that you're friends. But you’ll see, when they come to get you, he will be there and he will enjoy your pain. It was the same for Lorna and me with Cecilia. You’ll see.”

 

***

 

When Boon – _Lieutenant General_ Boon by now – walked McCoy to lab four around midday, he chatted away excitedly about the future he imagined for the human race. Human blood purity was a major concern of his and he complimented McCoy on his “pure Earth Georgian genes.”

 

“And speaking of blood,” he grinned, opening the door to the lab, “we will spill some today that hardly deserves the name.”

 

McCoy stopped short when he saw Spock lying on a table in the middle of the room, his uniform top and black undershirt removed. Boon, who seemed to mistake the expression of shock on McCoy’s face for fear quickly said: “Don’t worry, we’ve given him a neurotoxin to paralyse him from the neck down. It’s temporary, but for now he can’t harm you.”

 

McCoy swallowed hard. He briefly caught Spock’s eyes, but the Vulcan quickly looked away so as not to betray their connection. There was more dried blood on Spock’s face than the day before and McCoy wondered what had happened to him in the meantime, when his thoughts were interrupted by Boon’s voice.

 

“General Carter will be here in a minute,” he said, beginning to fiddle with video recording equipment. “You get to do the honours, but he does the talking.” Boon winked.

 

At that moment, Carter entered. He fixed his gaze on Spock and his already small eyes narrowed into slits.

 

“Ready for some fun, Corporal?” Carter grinned at McCoy. “Take that scalpel over there” – he indicated a table – “and make some nice cuts on that creature’s arms, neck, torso, whatever tickles your fancy. Just leave the face intact. And make sure you’re not in the way of the camera.”

 

Boon had set up a small camera above Spock’s head, his face in close-up. McCoy hesitantly grabbed the scalpel and swallowed hard.

 

Boon joined McCoy at the table, a bottle with a transparent liquid in his hand.

 

“What’s that?” McCoy asked, to win time, to do anything but drive the old-fashioned scalpel into Spock’s skin.

 

“Ferroparinux.” Boon grinned happily.

 

“That’s a… an anticoagulant for species with copper-based blood,” McCoy remarked.

 

“That’s right, Corporal,” Boon seemed excited. “A simple but effective method.”

 

McCoy licked his lips nervously. Was that kid really saying what he thought he was saying? He wanted to use the Ferroparinux solution _externally_? _That will hurt like hell_ , McCoy thought desperately.

 

“What are you waiting for, Corporal?” Carter boomed from the end of the table Spock was lying on. “Let’s get this show on the road!”

 

McCoy anxiously tried to catch Spock’s eye again but the Vulcan was staring blankly at the ceiling, past the camera.

 

McCoy desperately tried to figure out a way out of this, but when Carter exhorted him a second time, he saw no other possibility than to do what was asked.

 

He carefully made a thin cut on Spock’s left arm and uncertainly looked at Boon, who advised him: “A little bigger and a little deeper. Make him _bleed_.”

 

When McCoy had made a number of cuts about the length of a finger, Boon began to liberally pour the Ferroparinux solution over the incisions.

 

Spock took a deep breath but otherwise showed no sign of the discomfort he had to be in.

 

Meanwhile, Carter was talking to Spock, throwing insults at him, and getting more and more aggressive.

 

“Don’t you have something to say to your human tormentors, Vulcan?” Carter probed. “Come on, I’m sure you want to tell your ex-colleague here what you think of him.”

 

Carter seemed disappointed when Spock didn’t react to his taunting and finally stepped closer and bent over Spock so that he had to look at Carter’s face.

 

“Listen up, Vulcan scum,” Carter hissed. “We need some good video material here, so let me be quite clear. Either you cooperate and repeat what I’m about to tell you, or this will take so much longer and be so much more painful. I have time. And I’m enjoying this.” He grinned.

 

“Repeat after me: Vulcans are superior to humans.”

 

Spock stayed silent, the cuts continuing to bleed profusely.

 

“They must become extinct eventually.”

 

Spock said nothing.

 

“We will expedite their annihilation.”

 

Spock didn’t react at all, even though Boon had poured a second round of the Ferroparinux solution on his wounds.

 

“SAY IT! Carter screamed angrily. “SAY IT NOW!”

 

And when Spock still didn’t do as he was told, Carter addressed McCoy, an icy tone in his voice.

 

“How many cuts did you make?”

 

McCoy didn’t answer. He had never felt more sick in his life than in that moment as he was watching Spock’s face, eyes closed and jaw set against the pain.

 

“Got carried away by the fun of it and didn’t count, huh?” Carter asked, suddenly mirthful and more relaxed. “Happens all the time, don’t worry. I’m happy to count for you.”

 

And with a swift motion he took the scalpel from McCoy’s hand and began to stab at each of the cuts, counting aloud.

 

“One, two, three,” Spock twitched imperceptibly as the blade cut into his skin anew, drawing more blood.

 

“Four, five, six,” McCoy could feel tears welling up behind his eyes.

 

“Seven, eight, none, ten, eleven,” Carter counted slowly, savouring the minute signs witch betrayed the pain Spock was in. A sharp intake of breath, the sweat on his face, and now that the neurotoxin was beginning to wear off, the clenched fists.

 

“Twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen!” Carter finally announced. “Since we’re so close to the final stage of our plan, Corporal, why don’t you make four more cuts and I’ll fast-track you to Colonel. I’m feeling generous today and I want to let you in on the details of our operation.” He smiled widely. “Go on,” he prompted, offering McCoy the scalpel, unaware of McCoy’s shaking hands.

 

McCoy was certain that Spock couldn’t take any more, he thought the Vulcan was about to faint. But again, he saw no way out. He quickly made the four cuts and again Boon immediately supplied the Ferroparinux solution, pouring it over the new cuts, as well as the stab wounds Carter had inflicted. That’s when Spock fulfilled McCoy’s prediction and lost first his ability to control the pain, giving an agonized cry, and seconds after consciousness, lying on the table bleeding, his face ashen.

 


	11. Chapter 11

Carter raised an eyebrow at Spock’s still body, then turned his back with a shrug.

 

“So much for Vulcan superiority,” he grinned at McCoy. “Walk with me, Colonel. We have much to discuss.”

 

McCoy was still shaking and in no state for a conversation. Somewhere at the back of his mind he wondered how the others could fail to notice his agitation, but he was too upset to care. Mechanically, he walked along next to Carter as his mind replayed what had just happened in the lab over and over again.

 

“What happens to… the Vulcan now?” he managed to ask in a shaky voice, still seeing green blood dripping steadily to the floor before his inner eye.

 

“Oh,” Carter said, somewhat surprised at the question. “Lieutenant General Boon will give him a clotting agent, clean him up and send him back to the lower levels where we keep all the aliens. Too bad we didn’t get any good material from him. But no matter. The others were all more or less happy to talk. You see, we need to elicit some anti-human sentiment from them. It’s all part of the plan.”

 

McCoy had to force himself to listen. This was what they were here for, wasn’t it? Information. He needed to listen carefully or else all this would have been for nothing.

 

“What plan it that?” he managed to ask. “I’m curious, General.”

 

Well, Colonel. I’m sure you’re aware that in war sacrifices must be made. Sacrifices by noble martyrs. I’m afraid I can’t tell you who the brave souls are who will have the honour of becoming martyrs for our cause. That’s top secret. But I _can_ tell you what these disgusting aliens will do to them.”

 

***

 

When Spock woke up, the first thing he noticed was that he was cold and tired. The second thing he noticed was that someone was pressing down on his arms and chest. The pain was still there, as strong as before, his skin, the muscles beneath and even his bones felt as if they were on fire. He forced his eyes open and the concerned face of Laabi swam into view. So he was back in their small prison.

 

Laabi’s mouth was moving but he couldn’t hear her. Instead vague memories surfaced. Of Boon, bending over him, talking about punishment for non-cooperation, about clotting agents, about… about… Spock couldn’t remember. His eyes felt so heavy, the cold seemed to paralyse him. “You will learn what it means to defy us.” _Yes, that’s what Boon had said_. “I’ll give you the clotting agent tonight. First, you will suffer.” Spock closed his eyes and everything went black.

 

***

 

“He just had his eyes open but now he’s not responding.” Laabi was bent over Spock, anxiously trying to stem the flow of blood from the cuts on his body.

 

“Why didn’t they give him the antidote? He’s already unconscious, I’m not sure he will last much longer like this.”

 

Lorna, Meenour and Gan looked on, expressions grave.

 

“I guess his human half wasn’t much use to him after all,” Meenour admitted.

 

“Don’t just stand there. Help me!” Laabi urged desperately.

 

The two Andorians looked at each other, nodded and knelt down beside Spock, Lorna taking off a scarf she was wearing and Meenour his shirt, pressing the fabric to Spock’s wounds. Finally, Gan also reluctantly strolled over and took off a vest he was wearing to do the same.

 

And so they sat in silence, green blood slowly soaking through the makeshift bandages and beginning to form a small pool on the floor.

 

***

 

McCoy stumbled into his quarters and didn’t even make it to the bathroom before he stared to retch violently. It had all been too much. Seeing Spock being tortured, having to listen to Carter’s insane plan, then accompanying him to dinner with the other Generals and being introduced to them as the new model member, being unable to eat a thing but having to force himself to eat nevertheless in order not to arouse suspicion, toasting the future of Humanitas and pretending to laugh at xenophobic slurs, while all we wanted to do was to go and check on Spock.

 

He held on to that thought and managed to pull himself together, knees shaking. He cleaned himself up, grabbed a medical kit and scanner, and made his way to the lower levels. He realized he should probably contact Jim first, but after what had happened today, he needed to make sure Spock was ok. Now that he held the 'rank' of Colonel, they had given him all the access codes and he was going to make good use of that.

 

***

 

When Spock briefly awoke for a second time, he could feel the presence of four bodies close to his, but he could sense that McCoy was not among them _. How long have I been here?_ he wondered. _Where is McCoy?_ Scraps of his conversation with Meenour came to his mind. “He obviously tricked you pretty well for you to still believe that you’re friends.” _Could it be…?_ Had McCoy deceived him all along? No, Spock could not believe that. _But then why isn’t he here?_ a persistent voice at the back of his mind asked. “Leonard,” Spock mumbled before he fell back into oblivion.

 

***

 

McCoy reached the room that was labelled “Storage – Chemicals” and was about to type in the code to open it when he noticed a pool of liquid on the floor, seeping out from under the door. Absentmindedly, he dipped his fingers into it and they came away sticky, green and smelling of copper. McCoy thought he might be sick again. He punched in the code and the door slid open to reveal two Andorians, a Tellarite and a Rigellian crouched over a body. Even though they were sitting close to the door, they made no attempt to escape. They merely parted and stepped back further into the room, faces fearful and haunted to reveal the body they had been pressing completely soaked rags to. _Spock’s body_.

 

McCoy’s knees gave in and he dropped down beside the Vulcan who was so ghostly pale his skin seemed almost translucent. He reached for Spock’s wrist to feel his pulse, noticing how cold his skin felt to the touch and suddenly doctor mode kicked in, adrenaline surging through his body, his brain finally able to process information again. He let his medical scanner whirr over Spock, pulled out two hypos and emptied them into his friend’s arm.

 

“Are you Leonard McCoy?” the Rigellian spoke up. McCoy only nodded. “You have to help him,” the Rigellian continued pleadingly. “He said you name not two minutes ago. He said ‘Leonard.’”

 

McCoy swallowed hard. Spock hardly ever used his first name.

 

“He’s in hypovolemic shock,” he said looking into the dark eyes of the Rigellian. “I’ve given him a clotting agent, but if he doesn’t get a blood transfusion in the next 15 minutes, he’s dead.”


	12. Chapter 12

McCoy was walking fast towards the place they had landed the shuttle. At a normal pace it was a good 10 minute walk from the station but Spock didn’t have the 20 minutes it would take him to get there and back if he didn’t hurry. One thought was chasing the next one in McCoy’s head. _Had they left Spock to bleed out deliberately? How did that fit in with what Carter had told him about the “use” they planned to put the non-humans to? What should he do if other Humanitas members discovered he had stashed medical supplies in the shuttle? And assuming he managed to save Spock without them interfering, how could he explain his actions?_

 

 _No matter_ , he decided. Saving Spock’s life was top priority now. He had reached the shuttle and removed a wall panel at the back where the blood bags were still neatly stacked inside cooling boxes. He took three bags of T-negative, replaced the wall panel and was about to make his way back when his gaze fell onto the communications console.

 

For a brief moment, McCoy struggled with himself, but then went over to the console and transmitted a short message to the Enterprise. _After all, there are more lives at stake than Spock’s_ , he thought uneasily as he finally hurried back to his patient, not encountering anyone on the way. _It’s almost midnight_ , he realized.

 

***

 

“Bridge to captain Kirk!” Uhura’s voice woke Kirk sharply from his sleep.

 

“Kirk here. What are you doing on the bridge at this time of night, Lieutenant?” he asked but suspected he already knew the answer.

 

“Lieutenant Palmers called me, sir. We received an encoded message from Lyko IX. I helped him decode it and it’s from Dr McCoy.”

 

Kirk was suddenly wide awake. “On my way, Lieutenant.”

 

***

 

Even though McCoy had left the door to their prison wide open, the other non-humans had not escaped. “Try to keep him warm,” was what he’d told them before leaving to get the blood and that’s what they were doing – crouching close to Spock, but getting up as McCoy entered the room.

 

McCoy threw all of them an appreciative glance. “You could have overpowered me, taken the shuttle and escaped,” McCoy commented as the set up the blood transfusion. “But you chose to stay and help my friend. Thank you.”

 

The male Andorian looked at him curiously. “So you really are his friend?” he asked. “I didn’t believe him when he told us.”

 

Despite the gravity of the situation, McCoy smiled. “Spock called me his friend? Well, I’ll never let him live this down.” He chuckled. “But he’s right, we’re friends. And in case you were wondering, I’m not a xenophobic asshole. We came here to dismantle this organisation. Unfortunately, it’s proving to be more difficult than we had anticipated.” He glanced at Spock’s still face. “I just sent a message to our ship. The Enterprise. Trouble is I don’t really have enough information to tell them where and when exactly Humanitas plan to…” he swallowed. “Plan to use you.” He looked around the room apologetically.

 

“What do you mean, ‘use us’?” the Rigellian asked softly.

 

McCoy licked his lips nervously. “Well, I suppose you should know.”

 

And so, just as some colour began to return to Spock’s face, all colour left one Rigellian, one Tellarite and two Andorian faces.

 

***

 

Kirk sat listening to McCoy message for the third time. It was short, but the urgency in the doctor’s voice was unmistakable.

 

_Jim, Humanitas are planning an attack on a human colony. I don’t know where and when but it will be soon. I need you to stand by and will try to contact you again once I know more. I’ve got to go now. Spock… Spock’s in trouble._

 

And with that the transmission cut off. Kirk sat in the captain’s chair, thinking.

 

 _An attack on a human colony?_ That didn’t make any sense. And what had happened to Spock?

 

He anxiously drummed his fingers on the chair’s armrest. There was no point going back to sleep now. When Bones’ next message came through, he wanted to be on the bridge.

 

For now, all he could do was make sure whatever ship was closest to wherever this attack would happen would be dispatched immediately.

 

“Lieutenant Uhura,” he smiled at the fact that the communications officer was still on the bridge. “Give me Starfleet Intelligence. Commodore Singh, please.”

 

***

 

“He was talking as if he was already mourning the human lives that will be lost and as if he truly believes it will be you killing them and not him and these other lunatics,” McCoy finished relating to the non-humans what Carter had told him hours before.

 

For a moment everyone was silent, then the female Andorian spoke up. “We have to stop this, we have to escape!”

 

“Yes,” the Tellarite agreed. “You spoke of a shuttle… can we fly it out of here?”

 

McCoy glanced at Spock. The blood transfusion was complete but the Vulcan was still unconscious. “I’m not leaving without him,” McCoy stated decisively. “Besides, I’m not a good pilot and he’s in no state to fly the shuttle.”

 

“I can fly,” the Rigellian spoke up. “And of course we’re not leaving Spock here. “We’ll carry him. Let’s go!”

 

They silently made their way towards the shuttle, McCoy leading the way, his phaser which had remained attached to his belt since their arrival on Lyko IX now in hand in case they ran into any Humanitas members. As they were about to exit the station, Spock who was being carried in a fireman’s lift by the male Andorian emitted a low groan. McCoy stopped in his tracks a circled back to the Andorian and his burden who were bringing up the rear.

 

“You go ahead,” he waved the others on. I just want to make sure he’s ok.”

 

He quickly waved his medical scanner over Spock and satisfied that he was in an adequate condition considering the circumstances, nodded to the Andorian to keep moving.

 

As they stepped outside the station, they almost collided with the other non-humans who had stopped in their tracks. McCoy glanced around the Tellarite’s shoulder and saw what he supposed had to be most of the 19 other Humanitas members present on Lyko IX, staring at the non-humans with sneering faces.

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so this is kind of a transition chapter... some explanations are in order

“Ah, Colonel McCoy!” Carter stepped forward from the ranks of Humanitas members. “I wasn’t sure you’d heard yet, but clearly Lonners found you. I was gonna tell you the good news myself but you weren’t in your quarters, so I asked her go looking for you.”

 

McCoy blinked. _What is going on?_ he wondered, his mind racing. But as usual, he didn’t have to say much, as Carter just kept talking. _That man likes the sound of his own voice way too much_ , McCoy thought with exasperation.

 

“And I see as soon as you heard you took it upon yourself to do the most disgusting job, very impressive, handling five aliens all by yourself. Good thinking to bring them out now. The sooner we’re all here, the sooner we can get going. But what happened to the Vulcan?”

 

McCoy took a deep breath. _How to play this?_ He decided to follow his intuition and even had the presence of mind to point his phaser at the group of non-humans so that it looked as if he had made them walk in front of him all along.

 

“He, erm, well, General…,” McCoy stammered. “When I went to… get them” – he decided to go out on a limb and pretend to know what was going on – “he was almost done for. I, erm, wasn’t sure if this was deliberate or not… I mean, I’m all for letting an alien bleed till it’s dry but I took the liberty of giving him a clotting agent all the same… you know because you said you needed him alive… for the mission.”

 

Carter’s eyes narrowed dangerously. McCoy trembled but he stood his ground. He briefly thought about using the phaser, but decided against it. _Too dangerous_ , he realized, as tense seconds ticked by.

 

“BOON!” Carter finally boomed. “Boon, come here now.”

 

Boon stepped out of the small crowd watching the display and stood at attention in front of Carter, clearly nervous.

 

“You were supposed to give the Vulcan the clotting agent,” Carter said in a dangerously low voice. “What were you thinking? If the Colonel hadn’t intervened, we’d be one alien short now. I’m not sure we can even use him in the state he is in now. You know how important this is! Are you trying to sabotage this mission?”

 

Boon seemed to shrink with each word Carter uttered.

 

“No, sir!” he said, voice shaking. “I…I wanted to punish the Vulcan for not cooperating and make him suffer… I…I was going to give him the clotting agent in the evening, but I… I must have forgotten…”

 

“FORGOTTEN?” Carter screamed and Boon winced. “I’ll teach you something you’ll never forget! You’re reduced 10 steps in rank. And now: dismissed!”

 

As Boon scurried away, Carter turned to McCoy, a big smile suddenly on his face. And you, McCoy,” he said, “I’m pleased to reward you for your quick thinking and your initiative! I’m making you a General!”

 

McCoy was stunned.

 

“ _General_ McCoy, everyone!” Carter announced proudly and the small crowd began to clap.

 

“McCoy breathed out deeply, surreptitiously glancing at the Rigellian who was watching him intently. He was save for now, but it seemed the non-humans were doomed. There was no way they were getting out of this now.

 

“Hurry up everyone,” Carter shouted. We’re taking the Enterprise shuttle to get to the freighter and as you know we’re in a bit of a hurry, so we’re only making one trip. It’ll be a tight fit but we’ll manage. I’m flying.”

 

And with that, they were walking towards the shuttle, the non-humans now being herded along by tow armed guards. From the corner of his eye, McCoy saw Lonners emerging from the research station. She looked around and seeing him with Carter, shrugged, picked up some equipment and followed them towards the shuttle.

 

25 people in a shuttle built for 5? McCoy thought. Why this hasty departure?

 

“So, General,” McCoy began conversationally. “The freighter… where are we going exactly?”

 

Carter grinned. “Well, _General_ ,” he winked. “Now that you’re such a high-ranking officer, there are no more secrets between us. We have chosen Libra II for the attack. I believe you’ve been there?”

 

McCoy swallowed hard. He had mixed feelings about Libra II. The fond memories of the 100th anniversary celebrations were overshadowed by the fact that the colony was the place where all this madness had started for him.

 

“Yeah,” he said lamely. “So what time you think we will get there?”

 

Carter frowned. “I had it all planned for the day after tomorrow but now that Starfleet Intelligence got wind of us planning something… well, you know how it is. We need to act as long as they don’t know _where_ we’re doing this. We should be there by 1400 hours tomorrow. I just can’t believe this got out… if I catch the bastard who tattled on us…” he clenched his fists angrily. “Then again, I suppose there are spies everywhere, huh? After all, I only know about the tip-off to Intelligence because we have one of our people there… Perhaps _you’re_ the spy, General?” He began to laughed heartily and McCoy joined in as best he could.

 

 _Shit_ , McCoy thought as they all squeezed into the shuttle. _My message to Jim. He must have called Singh and someone from his team must be a Humantas member and must have called Carter. Now Humanitas are hurrying to put their plan into action because they're scared Starfleet will intervene. I need to send Jim another message if it’s the last thing I do._

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

The shuttle ride had been the worst of McCoy’s life. He usually complained about transporters but he would have preferred having his atoms scrambled over standing closely packed next to 20 xenophobes, having to make small talk for two hours.

 

Had Spock been conscious, McCoy thought, he would have pointed out that regulations would never allow overloading a shuttle in the manner Carter had seen fit, but he was still out, slumped on the floor at the back of the shuttle.

 

In fact, as the shuttle had cleared Lyko IX’s atmosphere, it had begun to shudder ominously and they had narrowly escaped burning up only because Lonners had dragged the Rigellian to the control console and ordered her at phaser point to make the appropriate calculations to stabilize the shuttle. Once this was accomplished, Lonners had taken the Rigellian back to the rear of the shuttle, where the non-humans were kept – the most dangerous place in case of an engine overload and the last place to be evacuated in case of an emergency landing, McCoy had realized glumly.

 

Against all odds, though, they had finally reached the freighter that was going to take them to Libra II. Carter had managed a rough landing on one of the freighter’s cargo decks and McCoy had taken his time leaving the shuttle, keeping an eye on the communications console.

 

But alas, Carter had grabbed him by the arm and manoeuvred him outside before McCoy even had a chance to approach the console. Carter had wanted him to meet the crew of the freighter – more Humanitas people naturally –  and had boasted to them about what a useful new member McCoy was and how fast he had managed to rise through the ranks.

 

McCoy had painfully smiled along and was now contemplating how to get back to the shuttle and contact Kirk. Six more hours until their scheduled arrival at Libra II. McCoy knew he needed to hurry.

 

***

 

Spock awoke because something was being roughly forced around his waist. As he opened his eyes, he saw Boon’s face looming over him. He was accompanied by two other men pointing weapons at him and his fellow prisoners.

 

Spock took in his surroundings and decided their situation had most definitely not improved. They were now confined in a room that looked like it was located inside a transport vessel, _most likely a class C freighter_ , Spock thought. On second thought, more likely a class B freighter – Spock could feel the hum of the impulse engine.

 

He turned his attention back to Boon who was now talking to him, or rather _at_ him, Spock realized.

 

“Stupid Vulcan. It’s because of you I don’t get to be up on the bridge for this and have to deal with you filthy aliens instead. But you won’t be a source of trouble much longer.”

 

He grinned and bent over Spock, closing the clasp of the tube-like metal belt around the Vulcan’s waist. The belt was uncomfortably tight and the buckle in the front that functioned as a clasp contained a small, rectangular vial shimmering in a vaguely pink hue.

 

Boon stepped back to survey his work and, apparently satisfied, gave the non-humans another hate-filled look and made for the door. At the last moment, he turned around, walked back towards Spock and without warning kicked him forcefully into the stomach. 

 

“Careful with that, man!” one of the men accompanying Boon shouted angrily.

 

“Don’t piss your pants, George,” Boon spat back. “It’s for remote controlled detonation. And our Vulcan friend deserved a proper goodbye. After all, this was my last chance to show him how I feel.” He laughed heartily and finally left the prisoners alone, the other two men following him outside.

 

As soon as he was gone, Laabi made her way over to Spock, kneeling down beside him. Looking around, Spock noticed that the others had also been fitted with the metal belts.

 

“How are you feeling?” Laabi seemed concerned.

 

“I am functioning adequately,” Spock replied in spite of the pain in his abdomen. “However, I find the fact that we have been fitted with matter-antimatter detonation coils… disconcerting.”

 

“Oh, that’s what these are,” Lorna frowned deeply. “They are used in the demolition industry because of their easy fit around load bearing beams and their explosive force…” She looked up, blushing. “Sorry. My brother works in the industry and he likes talking about his equipment… I never dreamed I would see one of these from up close though.”

 

Spock nodded. “I wonder if this is merely an experiment, a threat of some kind, or if they indeed plan to kill us in this manner. If the latter is the case, the question is why use such a complicated method?”

 

The others glanced at one another uneasily. “We can answer that question,” Meenour finally said. “We learned a couple of things while you were unconscious.” And so he began to fill Spock in on the events of the previous night.

 

“So basically,” Laabi summed up when Meenour had finished, “they will beam us into a human colony, detonate these antimatter things, and later publish the videos they took of us, except no one will know that we said what we said because they were torturing us and will believe we are terrorists who killed innocent people out of hatred.” Laabi shuddered.

 

“If I’d known what they would do with the video material, I would have never said anything they asked me to,” Lorna added regretfully. “But the cutting was so painful and I just wanted them to stop.”

 

“At least you held out and they had to ask you to repeat the things they demanded,” Gan spoke up. “I started shouting abuse at them right from the start and it was definitely exactly what they wanted. I think I said something about how I wished humans and Tellarites had never encountered each other. I am ashamed.” He dropped his gaze to the floor.

 

Spock had listened silently and was now deep in thought, his fingers stapled before his face.

 

After a while, he looked around the room and addressed his fellow prisoners in a sombre voice.

 

“If there was a way to ensure that Humanitas’ plan fails and to save the lives of the humans on the colony, though at the expense of your own lives… would you be prepared to make that sacrifice?”

 

There was a moment of tense silence as the non-humans looked at each other. Then they turned their gaze back to Spock and simultaneously answered with only one word: “Yes.”

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

McCoy was desperate. He had tried several times to get to the shuttle, but his new “rank” had earned him a new-found popularity and he was constantly surrounded by lower-ranking Humanitas members, trying to suck up to him by gracing him with their delusional world views. It was hell. The only break he got was when the other Generals wanted his opinion on something, most recently the best place to beam the “alien terrorists” down to on Libra II.

 

McCoy had carefully tried to argue for a bridge, warehouse or other infrastructure – hoping to at least be able to keep the death toll among the colonists as low as possible in case he wouldn’t be able to save Spock and the others – but he had been voted down by the other Generals. It was going to be the marketplace in the middle of the settlement – the most populated and busy area in the colony.

 

McCoy felt sick. Only one hour until their arrival on Libra II and he had neither had a chance to speak to Spock, nor to contact Jim. He knew that a warp speed the Enterprise would at Libra II in between 10 and 40 minutes – if they were still patrolling within the agreed communication distance, but he was afraid that he would not be able to contact the Enterprise at all.

 

***

 

“Explain it again,” Gan insisted, confusion evident on his face.

 

Spock inclined his head and decided to put the explanation into the simplest terms possible.

 

“The antimatter inside the vials let into the clasps of these belts is contained by a magnetic field which can be made permeable to the antimatter by a brief electrical pulse, thus causing the antimatter to collide with the matter – or ‘detonating’ the device by remote control as Mr Boon put it. Manipulating the device requires only a basic understanding of physics. By adding an appropriate conductor to the containment field before this electrical pulse is released, it should be possible to create a magnetic dampening field. While this will not prevent an explosion, it should slow the antimatter down sufficiently to significantly reduce the explosion’s force and reach.”

 

Gan still looked confused but Laabi nodded slowly. Lorna frowned.

 

“So what’s the conductor and how do we add it?” she asked.

 

“Fortunately,” Spock answered, “I have an ample supply of the required conductor on my person and even a means to extract it.” He pointed at the needle still stuck in his arm from the blood transfusion.

 

“Copper,” Meenour gasped. “Of course. The conductor is copper.”

 

Spock nodded. “I suggest we proceed immediately. We do not know how much time we have left and this is a delicate procedure.”

 

***

 

McCoy was frantic. “ETA to Libra II 30 minutes,” the freighter’s pilot had announced five minutes ago. Immediately a hectic bustle had begun, with Carter shouting instructions, eager Humanitas members scurrying back and forth, spreading an atmosphere of nervous anticipation. _Now or never_ , McCoy had thought and had slipped away towards the cargo decks. 

 

***

 

Spock had just finished wiping the excess blood off the last of the belts when the door to their prison swished open and Carter entered, accompanied by 11 other men who all crowded into the small room.

 

Manipulating the antimatter containment fields had been easier than Spock had anticipated. The detonation coils were made for use in dry surroundings and so the contraption had not been designed to be waterproof - or bloodproof. The blood Spock had extracted from his arm had easily seeped into the seams of the device so that instead of pink, the vials now shimmered dark green. Spock held his breath and had to admit to feeling nervous about whether or not Carter would notice the change. He didn’t.

 

Instead Carter began to shout instructions to the other men. Two men were to accompany each of the prisoners to the transporter room. As they were marched down the corridors, other Humanitas members emerged from various doors, whistling and jeering, and fell into step behind them, clearly keen to see the “beginning of a new era” as Carter kept shouting. Spock looked around trying to spot McCoy, but the doctor was nowhere to be seen.

 

***

 

To his amazement, McCoy made it to the shuttle unseen and was just about to open a subspace channel to the Enterprise when he suddenly heard Carter’s voice. McCoy jumped in his seat. “ _General McCoy to the transporter room. We’re beaming the aliens down in 15 minutes. I repeat, General McCoy to the transporter room immediately_.”

 

McCoy exhaled slowly. It was only the ship’s intercom, on ship-wide transmission apparently. We was about to turn back to his task when he heard another voice, this time unmistakably right behind him.

 

“Freeze. Stay right where you are,” the voice instructed. “Don’t move.”

 

With his right hand McCoy surreptitiously tried to feel for the phaser still attached to his belt but suddenly felt the muzzle of a phaser being pressed into his back.

 

“I wouldn’t do that,” the voice said menacingly and a hand roughly yanked the phaser away from McCoy.

 

“Now turn around slowly.”

 

McCoy did as he was told and came face to face of that kid Boon.

 

“Step over there.” Boon gestured to the back of the shuttle, far away from the communications console. McCoy complied, stepping backwards towards the rear of the shuttle until his back came into contact with what he knew was the wall panel hiding his stash of medical supplies.

 

Boon grinned triumphantly. “I knew there was something fishy about you, McCoy,” he bragged, strutting back and forth in front of the doctor. “And when I turn you in to Carter, he will reward me,” Boon raved. “ _I_ will be a General. _Me_!”

 

Boon’s face was red, veins popping out on his neck.

 

“I have worked so hard for Humanitas,” he shouted. “Gave it my all, my life. And then Carter punishes me for a little mistake and decides that _you_ will be his new protégé!”

 

Behind his back McCoy tried to loosen the wall panel while Boon kept pacing up and down agitatedly.

 

“He wants you up there with him for the beam-down, did you hear?” Boon screamed. “It should be me. ME!”

 

The sound of the wall panel clattering open was drowned out by Boon’s angry shouts.

 

“I just don’t know if I should finish you myself or let him kill you,” Boon mumbled. “No,... I deserve my revenge!”

 

And with that he lifted his phaser, pointing it at McCoy with trembling hands.

 

At that moment, the cargo bay’s intercom whistled to life once more.

 

“ _General McCoy, if you want to witness the most glorious moment in human history, get to the transporter room NOW. 10 minutes.”_

 

That seemed to tip Boon over the edge. With an angry cry he tossed the phaser aside and launched himself at McCoy, fists flying.

 


	16. Chapter 16

As Boon came hurtling towards him, McCoy quickly ducked to the side, causing Boon to crash into the wall. McCoy blindly grabbed a hypospray from behind the wall panel and just as Boon regained his footing, jammed it into his arm. Boon slumped down and rolled onto his side, unconscious.

 

“Damn it,” McCoy mumbled, looking at the hypo. He had given Boon a dose of tranquilizer designed for Vulcans. In a human this could potentially lead to cardiac arrest. He glanced at the shuttle chronometer. 7 minutes to beam-down. He quickly rummaged through the supplies and gave Boon another hypo to partially counteract the effects of the first. Satisfied that the boy was breathing normally, McCoy finally made his way to the communications console.

 

“McCoy to Enterprise.” Tense seconds ticked by while he waited for Kirk to acknowledge. What was taking him so long? Was the Enterprise out of range? McCoy felt his pulse quicken.

 

“Kirk here.” _Finally_ , McCoy thought, but decided he could ask Jim what had taken him so long when all this was over. For now, there was no time to lose.

 

“Jim, we’re in orbit around Libra II,” he began. “The attack is going to happen in five minutes in the market place. Get here _now_ and warn the colony.”

 

“Understood, Bones.” Kirk also knew there was no time for chit-chat. “Call again if you can, Kirk out.”

 

McCoy exhaled slowly. _So far so good_. But there was no way Jim would be here in 5 minutes to prevent the inevitable. And when he got here, McCoy would have to tell him that his best friend was dead, forced to become a suicide bomber and taking god knows how many innocent people to the grave with him. McCoy’s heart constricted painfully. This had to be the worst possible way to go for Spock.

 

McCoy closed his eyes, whispering a silent goodbye to the Vulcan. When he opened them again, he was full of determination. If he couldn’t save Spock, he would at least do everything in his power to save the humans down on the colony. McCoy got up from his seat in front of the communication console and sat down in the pilot’s chair.

 

***

 

Lonners was fuming. Was she McCoy’s babysitter? This was the second time Carter had sent her in search of the guy. Well, she had checked pretty much everywhere and he was nowhere to be found, so she was returning to the transporter room for the great spectacle.

 

“Where is he?” Carter barked at her as she entered.

 

“I couldn’t find him, sir,” she replied tersely.

 

Carter briefly considered delaying the beam-down to give McCoy the opportunity to witness it, but decided against it. The transporter room was full of people eager to finally finish what they had worked towards for months. His gaze fell on the Vulcan who was standing on the transporter platform and who had apparently listened to his exchange with Lonners.

 

“What are you looking at, filthy Vulcan?” he exploded.

 

Spock didn’t say anything. He wondered whether McCoy’s absence meant that he had managed to contact Jim. Spock was sorry he would not be able to say goodbye to either of his friends. _Kaiidth_ , he thought. _What is, is_. He turned his attention back to Carter to was calling the room to silence and was apparently getting ready to make speech.

 

***

 

“This is Captain James T. Kirk of the Starship Enterprise calling Fist Minister Cassara on Libra II. This is a priority one message. Libra II, please respond.”

 

Kirk impatiently drummed his fingers, waiting for the colony to acknowledge.

 

“ETA to Libra II, Mr Sulu?” he asked.

 

“28 minutes at maximum speed, captain.”

 

“Scotty,” Kirk punched the comm button on the captain’s chair. “We need to get to Libra II faster than in 28 minutes.”

 

“Aye, sir,” Scott’s voice came over the intercom. “I’ll see what I can do.”

 

At that moment Uhura announced: “First Minister Cassara for you, captain.”

 

A beautiful woman appeared on screen, smiling widely.

 

“To what do I owe the pleasure, captain?” she asked, but Kirk cut her off abruptly.

 

“An attack on your colony is imminent, First Minister. Evacuate the market place immediately and have emergency services stand by. This is not a drill.”

 

“An attack? But captain, we…”

 

“ _Immediately_ , First Minister. We are on our way. Kirk out.”

 

***

 

In his mind, McCoy went through the pre-flight protocol. It had been years since he had last piloted a shuttle. Flight training was a required module at the academy, even for medical staff, but since then he had not brushed up on his skills. He hadn’t needed to.

 

 _It’ll be fine_ , he told himself, his hands feeling wet as he opened a com channel to the freighter’s bridge.

 

“This is General McCoy,” he said in the most authoritative tone he could muster. “Open hangar doors to cargo bay two immediately.”

 

“Erm, General,” a confused voice came over the comm channel. “I was not aware, I mean, why…”

 

McCoy knew there were only two people on bridge duty. Low-ranking Humanitas members who had the thankless job of having to keep the ship running while virtually everyone else was down in the transporter room to witness the culmination of the organization’s plan.

 

“You’re not here to ask questions, you’re here to execute commands,” McCoy spat at the hesitant voice. “Open them. NOW!”

 

To his relief, the angry tone worked. The hangar doors slowly slid open. McCoy took one deep breath and then the shuttle was in the air, bound for the surface of Libra II.

 

***

 

“…proud to witness this glorious day for humanity!” Carter finished his speech.

 

He positioned himself in front of the transporter pad, holding up a small device containing only one button. _The detonator_ , Spock realised, feeling oddly numb.

 

Carter looked at each of the non-humans in turn, a superior look on his face.

 

“You should thank us, you useless creatures,” he said with venom in his voice. “You will go down in history, you know.”

 

The crowd in the transporter room erupted into laughing and jeering.

 

“ENERGIZE!” Carter shouted over the mayhem and Spock felt the tingle of the transporter beam before materializing in a crowd of humans.

 


	17. Chapter 17

“MOVE BACK,” Spock shouted frantically at the humans surrounding him. He quickly glanced around and noticed that the transporter had distributed the other non-humans evenly over the marketplace. Some of the humans closest to him had backed away in surprise at his sudden appearance and perhaps also as a result of his warning but he could not be sure it would be enough to move them out of harms way when suddenly his world erupted into white-hot, all-consuming pain and everything went black.

 

***

 

As the shuttle neared the market place of Libra II’s main settlement, McCoy could see from the air that the square was deserted save for a handful of people, forming five clusters, and a number of ambulance and law enforcement gliders. Forcing himself to concentrate on landing the shuttle, he picked a spot on the square as far away from any of the groups of people as possible and commenced the landing sequence.

 

To say it was a rough landing would have been an understatement. McCoy was thrown out of his seat and the shuttle’s consoles emitted sparks and smoke which McCoy did not think was something his former flight instructor would have approved of.

 

He scrambled to his feet and almost fell over the still unconscious Boon on his way to the door. Once outside, the quickly made for the closest cluster of people. He saw several medics there and called to them from afar.

 

“I’m a doctor, I can help!”

 

The small crowd parted and his gaze fell onto a figure lying on the floor. It was the female Andorian and from what McCoy could see, she was in a bad state. A paramedic was trying to stop the massive flow of dark blue blood from her abdomen, while a doctor was waving a medical scanner over her, nervous and clearly out of her depths.

 

“She’s alive?” McCoy asked the doctor in disbelief.

 

“Barely… I think,” she replied. “We have four more in about the same state. We were called here because there was supposed to have been an attack perpetrated by aliens, but when we got here all we found were some humans with minor injuries who said these five shouted at them to step away before devices around their waists exploded, causing this.” She pointed at the Andorian who was getting paler by the minute. “I’m not sure how to help them. None of us have any training in non-human anatomy and human colonies don’t stock blood reserves for non-humans,” she added almost apologetically.

 

 _Alive_. McCoy couldn’t believe his ears. How was this possible?

 

“There… there was a Vulcan,” he stammered. “Is he… is he also alive?” he asked, his voice faltering.

 

“He’s over there,” the doctor pointed towards a different group of medics. “He’s loosing blood rapidly like all of them. He’s alive for now but won’t be much longer I’m afraid.”

 

McCoy felt lightheaded and almost giddy with hope.

 

“Come with me,” he told his colleague. “And bring a couple of your people along. Quickly!”

 

***

 

As the Enterprise dropped out of warp at Libra II, Kirk took in the scene on the view screen before him and immediately jumped into action.

 

“Get a tractor beam on that freighter, Chekov,” he commanded.

 

“Sickbay, have all medical personnel report to the transporter room stat. Uhura, get me the First Minister.”

 

***

 

McCoy was frantically running between his five patients, trying to get them stable enough to move them to the colony’s hospital and operating rooms.

 

“NO, you idiot, Tellarite blood pressure is  _supposed_ to be really high!” he barked at a doctor who had called him over because he thought something was wrong with his patient.

 

“God almighty,” McCoy mumbled audibly. “Did you buy your license from Cyrano Jones?”

 

He moved on to where the Rigellian was being lifted onto a gurney. All the patients needed major surgery to repair the damage the exploding belts had caused, but now that they were getting blood transfusions, McCoy was hopeful he would be able to save them.

 

The only one he was truly worried about was Spock. McCoy had already used up a large quantity of the T-negative supplies he had stashed in the shuttle when Spock had almost bled out on Lyko IX. McCoy was sure the remaining bags would not be enough to see Spock through transport to the hospital _and_ surgery.

 

 _Come on, Jim_ , he begged silently. What’s taking so long?

 

***

 

“There are no human casualties reported, captain,” the First Minister of Libra II finished recounting the past 20 minutes’ events. “What would help us most right now would be for you to beam medical personnel trained in alien physiology directly to our hospital.”

 

“Consider it done, First Minister,” Kirk replied. “One more question. Would you happen to know if Dr McCoy is at the scene?”

 

“I cannot be sure, captain, however, my aids report that a Federation shuttle landed on the marketplace and that a man in Starfleet uniform is now coordinating the triaging, shouting and swearing at everyone.”

 

“That’s McCoy alright,” Sulu grinned at Chekov.

 

***

 

As McCoy helped get the male Andorian onto a gurney, an exhausted looking law enforcement official approached him.

 

“We just got a message from the aid to the First Minister. The Enterprise is in orbit and will send doctors directly to out hospital.”

 

McCoy breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks,” he gave the man a pad on the shoulder and began jogging towards the shuttle.

 

He needed to call Jim and ask him to beam down more T-negative stat. Spock was the only one not yet stable enough for transport. The others had by now been manoeuvred into the medical gliders and where on their way to the hospital, the square slowly emptying of people and equipment. Only once medical glider had remained behind, and the small group of people who were taking care of Spock.

 

As McCoy walked briskly towards the shuttle, he saw a figure emerge from inside it. McCoy stopped short, fear rising in his chest when he recognised Boon strutting purposefully towards him, phaser in hand. McCoy turned around panic-stricken. Law enforcement had left to escort the gliders to the hospital. There were no weapons around, save that in Boon’s hand.

 

McCoy walked backwards until he almost collided with the paramedic holding the half empty blood bag whose contents were slowly flowing into Spock’s veins.

 

“We have a problem,” McCoy informed the other humans tensely, his eyes never leaving Boon.

 

Just as the others looked up, Boon came to a stop about five metres from where they were standing, weapon pointed.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another cliffhanger! Too much? Naaaah, right?


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone, for sticking with this story, for your kind comments and the encouragement! I've decided to upload the last two chapters simultaneously, so the story is now complete!

“Stop treating him!” Boon demanded in a high-pitched tone. “Stop it now and let the filthy alien bleed to death!”

 

Nobody moved. “Do as I say,” Boon screamed, or I’ll shoot.”

 

The humans all looked at each other, but made no move to follow Boon’s orders.

 

Then, McCoy heard the whirr of a phaser and suddenly the paramedic who had been holding the blood bag collapsed on the floor. McCoy stepped over to her to check for a pulse. _Stunned_ , he realized with relief.

 

“I would never harm a human, McCoy,” Boon, who had watched him check on her, shouted agitatedly. “Unlike you, I care about our race.”

 

 _Another whirr_. The doctor monitoring Spock’s vitals went down.

 

“But that Vulcan deserves to die.” Boon’s eyes narrowed and he pointed the phaser at the last of McCoy’s helpers, a young paramedic who was holding the sterile gauze on Spock’s abdomen in place and applying pressure to stop the bleeding. Boon fired.

 

Almost immediately, the monitor, which had fallen next to the unconscious doctor, began to beep dangerously.

 

McCoy nervously licked his lips. “Don’t do this, Boon,” he tried to reason with him, slowly moving down Spock’s side, intending to apply pressure to the wounds himself. “What’s the use of this now?”

 

“STOP moving. SIT down.” Boon was wild with rage.

 

McCoy tried to calculate how long it would take the blood they had given Spock to seep out and cause heart failure. 10 minutes? 5?

 

He sat down next to Spock, watching helplessly as all they had achieved by treating him in the past half hour went to shit. McCoy’s mind was racing. What could he do? If he tried to move again, Boon would most likely stun him too and he would be no help to Spock. But he couldn’t just sit there, watching his friend bleed out.

 

He took Spock’s right hand into both of his, squeezing lightly.

 

“Look kid,” McCoy began pleadingly, but Boon cut him off immediately.

 

“I’m not a kid, McCoy,” he hissed, eyes blazing. I am a fighter for a better tomorrow, a champion of the human race…” and he launched into a monologue that McCoy tried to tune out as best he could.

 

Instead, he pressed Spock’s limb hand close to his own heart, waiting for a miracle.

 

***

 

McCoy felt like they had been sitting like this for an eternity, though the fact that Spock was still alive, albeit barely, had to mean it had only been a couple of minutes. Boon was still ranting about how much he hated aliens when the heart monitor indicated a quickening of Spock’s heartbeat. _The heart desperately trying to pump enough blood through the body when there is none left_ , McCoy knew.

 

“SHUT UP!” McCoy suddenly shouted, grief and anger overwhelming him.

 

“My friend is dying and I don’t want the last thing he hears to be the voice of the man who killed him!”

 

To McCoy’s surprise, Boon actually stopped talking. The doctor turned his attention back to Spock, eyes burning.

 

“Remember that time on Minara II, Spock?” McCoy asked in a pressed voice. “When it was me dying and you were there for me? I told you you had a good bedside manner. I’ll always remember you that way.” McCoy’s voice broke. “Always.”

 

And suddenly, the heart monitor emitted a shrill long beep. _Flatline_. McCoy closed his eyes, tears streaking his face. Then, he heard the sound of the phaser again. Who or what could Boon possibly be shooting at now? McCoy opened his eyes only to see Boon lying on the floor and a blur of gold running towards him. McCoy wiped his eyes.

 

“JIM!” He couldn’t believe it.

 

McCoy looked back at Spock. Perhaps it was not too late. He turned the Vulcan onto his side and began heart compressions.

 

Kirk, who had run to McCoy’s side looked shocked at the sight of Spock covered in blood and completely unresponsive, but quickly whipped out his communicator.

 

“Scotty, emergency transport directly to sickbay, NOW!”

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And finally, some comfort after all this hurt!:)

McCoy was sitting in his quarters, glumly staring at a still full glass of brandy in his hand. He didn’t feel like drinking. He also didn’t feel like eating, talking, or doing anything, really. He knew he was brooding but he couldn’t snap out of it.

 

Three days ago, he had saved Spock’s life with a 6-hour surgery and 15 bags of blood. The Vulcan was still in sickbay recovering from his ordeal, as were the four other non-humans who the Enterprise had beamed aboard after they had been treated by the Enterprise’s medical staff down on Libra II and who would now travel to Earth with them to testify in the Humanitas case.

 

Some of the Humanitas members, including Boon and Carter were on board also, confined to the brig. It gave McCoy shivers to know that he was once again on board the same ship as these lunatics. The Enterprise did not have the detention capacity to hold all the prisoners from the freighter, so they had been joined by the Yorktown, who had taken some of the prisoners on board.

 

“I should be down in the brig with them,” McCoy mumbled, turning the glass in his hand.

 

The mission debriefing with Jim and Singh, as well as some other Intelligence people had been hell. McCoy had had to recount everything that had happened, including what the Rigellian – _Laabi_ he reminded himself – had told him of the events shortly before the non-humans had been beamed down to Libra II. Once again, McCoy thought, Spock’s ingenuity had been unsurpassed, the non-humans becoming martyrs to save human lives, when it had been humans who wanted other humans to die as martyrs supposedly at the ‘aliens’ hands.

 

And the female Andorian – _Lorna_ – had told him that when she woke up, she had been surprised to be alive. Apparently, none of them had expected to survive, the magnetic dampening field working better than Spock had anticipated.

 

McCoy had been completely honest during the debriefing, mentioning everything he had done as an alleged member of Humanitas, only to be informed one day later that in the course of investigating the organization, Starfleet would also launch an inquiry into his actions during the mission, to determine whether he was “of appropriate character to work in Starfleet’s multi-species environment.”

 

McCoy swallowed hard. Maybe it was not unjustified. Compared to what the non-humans had done to foil Humanitas’ plans, his own actions seemed despicable. He had laughed with Carter and the others, played along, _cut_ Spock, for God’s sake. McCoy buried his head in his hands.  

 

 _Spock_. He still hadn’t spoken to the Vulcan, he couldn’t.

 

Moments later, his door chime whistled. Who could it be at this time of night?

 

McCoy took a deep breath, trying to display a semblance of normality. “Come,” he said stiffly.

 

Only a couple of weeks ago, McCoy would have probably said something like “speak of the devil” when Spock entered, and have added something about the shape of his eyebrows and ears just to drive home the point that he looked like, well, the devil, but now he didn’t say anything.

 

“May I come in, doctor?” Spock asked into the silence he was greeted with.

 

McCoy only nodded. “You’re supposed to be in sickbay,” he finally managed, but there was none of his usual fire in the statement.

 

Spock raised an eyebrow. “I have not been seen by my primary physician in three days, therefore I assumed a confinement to sickbay would no longer be necessary.”

 

McCoy felt the blood rush to his face.

 

“I came to check on you…”

 

“…when you thought I was asleep, I know. I was merely meditating.”

 

McCoy bit his lip. “How’re you feeling?”

 

“Adequate, thank you doctor. However, I came here to ask how _you_ are feeling… Leonard.”

 

At the sound of his first name, McCoy finally dared to properly look at Spock. The Vulcan looked tired, but otherwise healthy all things considered. Most of all, however, at the moment he looked _concerned_.

 

“How am _I_ feeling?” McCoy almost laughed. “Spock, I’m not the one who almost bled out twice in two days, who was tortured, abused and… and almost died.”

 

“And yet you display clear signs of trauma,” Spock stated evenly. “You have been reported to be lethargic, irritable, and withdrawn. I have spoken to 50 crew members who have reported one or several of these symptoms in you, which reduces the margin of error for my hypothesis to 14.1 %.”

 

“50 crew members…?” Now McCoy really wanted to laugh out loud. “Spock, you were supposed to be resting.”

 

“I find research to be a restful activity, doctor. The sample and my own experience support my theory. I know you were avoiding speaking to me.”

 

“Look, Spock, I…” McCoy was struggling for words. “The truth is, yes, I was avoiding you. After what happened in the past couple of days, I can barely look you in the eyes. I keep replaying everything in my mind. What if I had never called you a green-blooded hobgoblin that night on Libra II, or better yet, _ever_? What if I had refused to cut you when you were lying on that table and Carter wanted you to say all these horrible things… what if I had come to check on you earlier that night, maybe we could have escaped... What if I hadn’t saved Boon from that tranquilizer overdose I gave him in the shuttle…” McCoy looked pleadingly at Spock. “And now I feel like I’m making this about _me_ , when it was _you_ who suffered so much, you and the others.”

 

Spock slowly shook his head. “You have performed admirably under the most difficult of circumstances. So admirably, in fact that at one time I briefly wondered whether you might, in fact, have become a Humanitas follower.”

 

McCoy looked at Spock, horrified.

 

“However, throughout this mission, and for a long time before, your actions have given me cause to believe that we are, and always shall be, friends.”

 

McCoy felt a lump in this throat. He was overwhelmed by Spock’s words and by how much they meant to him.

 

“Starfleet are doing an inquiry into my actions during the mission.” McCoy finally said, tears welling up in his eyes. “It’s an inquiry into whether I’m even fit to work in a multi-species environment.” He could feel tears trickling down his face now. “I’m not a goddam xenophobe.”

 

“For that,” Spock said solemnly, “I will be able to vouch with my life. After all, I owe you mine.”

 

And when McCoy still did not look convinced, he continued: “However, if Starfleet need further evidence, I am prepared to demonstrate how far my belief in your character goes. After all, it may be assumed that if I thought you were a xenophobe I could not be persuaded to do this-”

 

-and he pulled McCoy into an embrace.

 

Affection flooded the doctor and when Spock released him again, he mumbled: “Thanks, hobgoblin. I guess we really are friends.”

 

Spock graced him with a rare half-smile.

 

“Undoubtedly, doctor. Though I would suggest you refrain from utilizing that particular nickname during the inquiry.”

 

McCoy laughed. “You got it, you pointy-eared bastard.”

 

 


End file.
